Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy
by YFWE
Summary: Chapter One! First HP fic, don't be harsh, please! Year Seven


Hi. Um, I am having so many issues with my computer now, it's not even funny. Ack, I'm using Word Pad right now on my Windows XP system because Word Perfect's being evil. Like the rest of my computer. Ah well. For those of you that don't know me, hi, I'm YFWE. I'm mostly a writer for American Dragon: Jake Long, but I'm trying a Harry Potter fic.

This chapter will have no Harry, I must say. But the fic will. I mean, duh. It is a Year 7 fic. I think I'll stop talking now. Here it is!

Harry Potter and the Lost Prophecy

YFWE

Chapter One: The Ministry Comes a-Calling

He moved swiftly, dodging trees and weaving in and out of the stone pathways that covered the park. It was a half-moon that night, although the moon still wasn't giving off much light, so the dim park lights were really the only thing that gave the park any light.

He had never meant for it to come to this... but in truth, he hadn't much of a choice. He... hadn't been himself, it could be said.

His name was Jacob Stanton. A respected man, one of London's premiere dentists.

But dentistry had nothing to do with the matter.

He remembered it so vividly... well, some of it, at least. It was a Monday, and summer was beginning to wear off and September was nearing. It had been the previous morning, these happenings...

He was in his office. Timmy Churchill had just been in for his 7:00 appointment, and Stanton was readying himself to go home for the night. It had been a rough day- Mrs. Shaffer had been in to geet her five cavities filled first thing in the morning. Dr. Stanton usually had no problems with filling cavities, but there were two things he disliked- one, doing so in the early morning hours, and two- having to fill more than three in one appointment. He had been forced to experience the worst of both worlds that morning.

Had it been his fault that his hand involuntarily slipped ever-so-slightly on his tool and caused a part of Mrs. Shaffer's front teeth to chip off? Well, there was really no one else to blame but himself. And now the office was being sued for 50,000 dollars- American money, as she was born American. (Stanton believed this this price seemed to be a bit extreme.)

And then, at approximately 3:30, when he was near completing his checkup on Elizabeth Turner, Richard Hatcher strolled in and reported to Dr. Stanton's secretary, Leslie, that he had an appointment for 3:30.

This was not so, as Michael Sandberg had already been scheduled at this time slot weeks prior. Leslie claimed she never even recalled Hatcher even calling.

But Hatcher said he had, and what ensued was a shouting match between Sandberg and himself, until Leslie came to get Stanton and inform him of what was going on. And when the good doctor attempted to explain to Hatcher that he was not on the appointment list, and needed to reschedule, Hatcher stormed out of the building, yelling that he would never visit the place again, nor would he ever recommend it to anyone.

So after a particularly trying day, Dr. Stanton was finally ready to turn in. Back to his home a few blocks north, where surely his wife, Martha, and his five-year old son, Jerry, would be waiting.

And that's all he remembered.

The next time he could recall anything, it was in his office, at 9. It was nighttime, and he had a splitting headache.

At this point, his flashback temporarily ended, as Stanton seemed to realize that he was no longer being chased (for the time being). Slowing his pace to a cautious walk, he found a gathering of shrubs on the side of the pathway he had been on, found a small opening, and crawled inside.

He remembered this place fondly, as he made sure he was completely inside, and sighed. When he was a boy, he had made this place- a little hiding spot, a home-away-from-home, it could be called. It wasa clearing inside the shrubs, and although he had obviously grown since his last meeting with it, he still fit inside well.

Still gasping silently for air, he reached into his coat pocket, and in the faintest whisper, said "_Lumos._"

The object he had brought forth from his pocket lit up, a glowing white light on its end.

It was a wand.

And Jacob Stanton was a wizard.

He yawned, considering it was about 10 and he was normally in bed at this point. He laid his head against the ground and closed his eyes, remembering what had happened next that day.

He had woken up at his desk, head down. Had he dozed off? That's what he thought at first, but something told him that that wasn't the case.

But what had happened, then?

Stanton soon got his answer- or, in a sense- when he heard the distant scream of sirens approaching.

Closer and closer they became. Stanton wasn't too worried about this, actually. Maybe it was a fire... someone fell down the stairs... it could've been just that.

But the most unfortunate thing imaginable happened moments later- about a dozen police cars sped into view, and stopped... right in front of his office.

Now Stanton began to panic. Why... why were they here? Did this have anything to do with the fact that he didn't remember anything?

And then...

"Dr. Jacob Stanton! We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!"

They were here for him.

But why?

Stanton dashed from his window, and quickly flipped on his TV. Maybe this would give him some idea...

He was on channel seven. Always was. And as he turned it on, there in big bold letters at the top of the screen:

ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON THE PRIME MINISTER

An assassination attempt?

Oh lord... it couldn't be...

The policemen were already inside. His office was on the third floor. It wouldn't be long before...

But remember, Jacob Stanton is a wizard.

And there is something that all sixth-year wizards learn to do at the wizarding school Hogwarts.

Stanton concentrated, attempting to shut out the noises of the sirens and approaching policemen, and... felt his body seemingly being sucked into a hole. He felt as if he would suffocate for a few seconds, but soon enough, he opened his eyes and saw that he was in the back alleyway behind his office. Good, it'd worked.

He'd just Apparated. It was something he hadn't done in a while. It also happened to be something you weren't supposed to do in the Muggle world. In fact, wizards were not allowed to do even the slightest bit of magic (especially in the presence of humans) in this world. So he was probably going to get into trouble any minute now.

He already had the London police on his tail; he didn't need the Ministry there as well. Quickly, he sped in the opposite direction of the road on which the police would be waiting.

His first thought was to go home to his family, possibly to see what was going on. But then he realized- they'd probably be waiting for him there- that is, the authorities would be.

He had no place to go now. If he had done... what he figured he had done, he was now the most wanted man not only in London, but the rest of England and probably the rest of Europe as well.

Off he ran. And that caught Stanton up, his flashback ending, and he woke up, realizing that he had dozed off inside his temporary hiding spot.

When he was sure that he was fully awake, he began to think once more.

He hadn't tried to assassinate the Prime Minister... he had been in his office the entire time. Or, so he thought.

But wait...

What was it he had been hearing in the papers- The Daily Prophet, that is- recently? Of the people that had seemed like good people prior, and were caught doing, or trying to do, questionable things? Some thought it had been possible that they had been under the Imperius curse.

Was that it? Had someone performed the Imperius curse on him to make him try and assassinate the Prime Minister?

Stanton felt the ground around him rumble a little as a swarm of policemen on horseback galloped by, none ever detecting his presence, of course. When they were out of sight, Stanton heaved a great sigh of relief. And it was quiet again. For a few moments, and then...

"Hello, Jacob."

Stanton jumped. Someone had found him. Not only that, but... he knew that voice.

He stuck out his head and looked up at the shadowy figure outside his hiding place, illuminated only by the park lights yonder.

"Hello, Rufus", Stanton replied.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister of Magic, smiled as he helped Stanton up off the ground. "I hope this is not a bad time..."

"Oh, Rufus, let's just cut to the chase", Stanton grunted, in a bit of an annoyed fashion, "Something's happened, and I want answers."

"Jacob, Jacob, let's not be too hasty, shall we? You know that this time would come, after what happened tonight..."

"What happened tonight?"

"Dammit, Jacob, don't force me to kill you right here!", shouted Scrimgeour. This, obviously, got Stanton's attention, as he quieted down, eyes wide.

"Jacob... I don't know what has gotten into you- whether You-Know-Who has done some talking to you, or what, but... you know your actions cannot be overlooked."

"Is this about the Prime Minister? 'Cause I..."

"Ah, we're finally on the same page now. Magnificent", Scrimgeour clapped his hands together, "Yes... you of all people should know that the Ministry doesn't take kindly to magic being used in the Muggle world- especially when it is used in the state you used it in."

"Wh-what did I do?" stuttered Stanton.

"Don't play dumb with me, Jacob. You knpw perfectly well. Ah, I thought only the darkest of wizards could pull off the Avada Kedavra curse. But you, Jacob", he pointed a long, slender finger at Stanton, "You almost proved me wrong. How long had you been practicing it? And what on? Mice, I've heard that'd be a nice amenity..."

"Th...the Avada Ked..."

"Let's not make it a habit of repeating it, shall we? I mean, I am pretty well sure that you will not use it on me, Jacob. But you can never be too careful."

Shadows moved in the darkness behind Scrimgeour. Stanton decided it was likely some of the Minister's right-hand men- waiting for their opportunity to arrest him... or worse, kill him...

He had to think of something.

"Rufus. You know me! I wouldn't dream of doing this sort of thing! I think someone put me under the Imperius..."

"I'm afraid to say that all excuses have ben thrown out the window at this point, Jacob."

There was nothing Stanton could do now. If he Apparated, they'd still find him eventually. He couldn't use magic against them. Knowing the Ministry, he was sure there was some sort of force field around Scrimgeour. Wait... he couldn't use magic _against _them, but maybe he could use magic on..."

Stanton pointed the wand at himself, "Let me go, Rufus, or I'll... I'll... do it! I'll kill myself!"

In a seemingly act of boredom, Scrimgeour flicked his own wand, and knocked Stanton's wand out of his hand and sent it sprawling into the grass, leaving Stanton not only defenseless, but without a means of offense as well.

Stanton let out a deep sigh, and slowly raised his arms into the air.

"Knew you'd come around", Scrimgeour said, motioning for one of his assistants forward. The assistant, a blond-haired woman, spoke:

"Dr. Jacob Edward Stanton, you are under arrest for the assassination attempt of the British Prime Minister. You will be taken to the Azkaban Prison, and will stand trial in a period of 48 days. Do you have an attorney? Because rest assured, you'll be needing a very good one."

END CHAPTER

Um... hey, that's the end of the chapter! Dude! I can, like, stop typing for fifteen minutes before I go back to some other fics! Ah, I hope you liked it, and please read and review, people of See ya 'round!

YFWE


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